


(but if you loved me) why did you leave me?

by merthurxmalec



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, and I am here to supply you with angst for days, except Tony is twice the man Dumbledore could ever be, idk how to tag yeet, im all for ignoring that never happened but ffh was a gold mine of angst, seriously if you haven't read it DO NOT ENGAGE, this is basically going to be like that scene with harry and Dumbledore in deathly hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 13:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merthurxmalec/pseuds/merthurxmalec
Summary: SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME~Tony Stark had died wrapping his world in a suit of armour to bathe in the protection he spent his love giving.Tony Stark had died in pain and in agony, his entire right side burnt and charred. Peter still remembers it, remembers the smell of burnt flesh, remembers the taste of smoke and ash in his mouth. Remembers it, because he has seen it in his every damn night for five months.Tony Stark died.Which is leading Peter to believe that he has died, too, because he is pretty sure he is seeing Tony Stark in front of him right now.~or, in the aftermath of his encounter with Mysterio, Peter has a conversation with Tony.





	(but if you loved me) why did you leave me?

**Author's Note:**

> so, I watched Far From Home today and needless to say I am not definitely not okay. Hence, have my attempt no.1 at trying to sort out my feelings. 
> 
> This isn't beta'd as usual, and barely even proof-read tbh. I wrote this in an hour blinded by the tears that have been free-flowing for the last couple of hours.

“Hey kid.”

Peter blinked up at the image in front of him, once, twice, and then his eyes blew open. There was a strange light behind the figure, a glow illuminating his face, and it was unlike any time Peter had ever seen him.

Tony Stark had always looked tired, defeated, always weighed down by the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders. His eyes were always unfocused, his brain always distant – always preparing for the next attack, thinking of the next strategy, finding another way to protect the people he cared about most.

Tony Stark had died wrapping his world in a suit of armour to bathe in the protection he spent his love giving.

Tony Stark had died in pain and in agony, his entire right side burnt and charred. Peter still remembers it, remembers the smell of burnt flesh, remembers the taste of smoke and ash in his mouth. Remembers it, because he has seen it in his every damn night for five months.

Tony Stark died.

Which is leading Peter to believe that he has died, too, because he is pretty sure he is seeing Tony Stark in front of him right now.

He looks younger, healthier, and _so so alive._ Peter had last seen Tony illuminated by the fire in a battlefield, had seen his face darken as the blue orb in his chest gave off. He had last seen Tony’s hair peppered with streaks of grey, had seen frown lines and wrinkles litter his face, a physical reminder that time had not been very kind to Tony Stark. The world had not been very kind to Tony Stark. Peter doesn’t remember ever seeing Tony like this, so _free,_ and the realisation feels like another stab to the heart.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter breathes out, his voice breaking as he utters the name he has tried too hard to avoid the last few months.

“Did it really take me dying for you to finally call me by my name, kid?” Tony (no, not Tony, he’s dead) says, amusement evident on his face. He sounds like him – still says ‘kid’ in the fond manner he always did, half affectionate and half teasing, a grin hidden in the word because of the incredulous look Peter throws at him every time, a childish moan of _“not a kid, Mr Stark!”_ following the term of endearment every time without fail. He sounds like the Tony Peter tries to remember in his mind, the Tony he had dragged to Burger King after school the day before the world ended. More importantly, he sounds so different to the Tony he had last seen, the Tony who he had to watch be drained out of life. He sounds like _him,_ and Peter can’t hold it in anymore.

Peter dives head first into Tony’s chest, wrapping his arms tightly around the older man. He feels warm under his hands, solid and whole. His fingers clutch tightly at the fabric of Tony’s AC/DC t-shirt, and he finds himself snuggling into Tony even more. Tony rests his chin on top of Peter’s head, his hands threading softly through his curls in the way he used to on movie nights, when Peter would rest his head on Tony’s shoulder and fall asleep half way through a movie. It feels so normal that Peter finds himself crying even harder.

“Sssh, kid,” Tony murmurs into his curls, “it’s okay, Pete. I’m here. I’m here.”

“No,” Peter sobs, his cheek still pressed against Tony’s chest, damp from his tears. “No, you’re not.”

“I know,” Tony says sadly. “I’m sorry. I wish more than anything I didn’t have to leave you.”

“You didn’t,” Peter says. “Why couldn’t someone else do it? Why did it have to be _you_?”

It’s a question he had been asking ever since it happened, since the day he had scanned the surplus of superheroes who had turned up to his funeral. He wondered why neither of them had stepped up to do it. Captain Marvel could probably have survived it, as could Scarlet Witch. Why did they not try it? Why didn’t _he_?

(And maybe he had asked Captain America that question too when he had met him a few hours after the funeral. He was old and grey now, and something about seeing him like that, realising that he got to live the life Tony would never get to experience, filled him with an insane, bitter rage. Steve Rogers had stayed quiet for a long time, his eyes fixed on the lake where they had laid Tony to rest mere hours ago. “If I had the chance,” he had said finally, “I would have done it in a heartbeat. I would have done anything to make sure he survived.”)

“Because,” Tony says, gently pushing Peter off and cradling his tear-stricken face, “if you can do something, and then you don’t, and then bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

Tony gives Peter a small smile, bringing him thumb up to gently wipe away Peter’s tears.

“I failed you,” Peter says. “You trusted me with your legacy, with everything, and I gave it to the first person who showed me some kindness.” Peter’s eyes fill with tears.  
“I’m sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, his voice raising octaves. “Peter, buddy, you could never fail me. There is not a single part of me that thinks you can’t do this. You’re better than me, Peter. You’re better than all of us.”

“Am I dead?” Peter whispers, staring into Tony’s brown orbs. He realises then that Tony’s eyes have little flecks of gold in them. He had never noticed that before.

“That’s up to you, buddy,” Tony says. “You wanna stay here and live out the rest of your days with your old man, we can do that. But if you want to go out there and be the best damn hero the world has ever seen; you can do that too.”

“I miss you so much,” he cries. “So much.”

“Oh, kid,” Tony says, “I know you do. I miss you, too. But you have so much to go back to. May, Ned, MJ, Happy – even Pepper and Morgan. They all need you.”

“Morgan doesn’t even know me,” he whispers, ashamed. Pepper had tried, had tried so hard to reach out to Peter, to introduce him to Morgan. He refused every time.

“Of course she does,” Tony says. “She has grown up hearing stories of her big brother Peter.”

Peter smiles through his tears. “I have to go back, don’t I?” he whispers.

“Oh, Petey,” Tony says. “You don’t have to do anything. But you and I both know you’re going to, aren’t you? You never knew how to walk away from trouble.”

Peter laughs. “I think I got that from you.”

Tony smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to Peter’s temple. “Yeah, buddy. Looks like you did.”

“I love you, Tony,” Peter sobs. “I wish I got to tell you that. I thought we had time.”

“I love you, too, Peter,” Tony says, brushing his curls off his forehead. “Now go kick ass, Spiderman.”

The bright light behind Tony intensifies, making Peter close his eyes involuntarily. When he opens them again, he is alone.

**Author's Note:**

> soooo do you think Peter imagined Tony in his injured, close-to-death state? or do you think Tony rose from the dead to help his son? let me know your theories! 
> 
> scream at me on Tumblr: starsinourinfinities


End file.
